


Born Again

by AWomanOfLetters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Gen, Guilt, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWomanOfLetters/pseuds/AWomanOfLetters
Summary: How did Castiel feel as he remembered who he was? One of my favorite scenes; I love the music.





	Born Again

The entrance to the facility is swarming with those...demons. The three of them have to get inside. They tell him he's an angel, that he can smite demons. It's insane. He stands looking down at the demons, fear and uncertainty running through him.

The man - Dean - moves up to his side, says, "It's in there. It's just like...riding a bike."

Not helpful. He turns to Dean, says, blankly, "I don't know how to do that, either." He's dimly aware, as he turns to look down at the horrible, evil things he is supposed to know how to kill, that the man is rolling his eyes. It feels...oddly familiar. "All right." He takes a deep, steadying breath. "I'll try."

He takes another deep breath, starts walking down the hill, looking from one demon to the next as he gets closer. They make him twitch, shiver. On the surface they look ordinary, but there is a vile, oily black smoke cloaking them, ripples of red webbing gleaming and sparking in splashes, glittering randomly.

He approaches the nearest one, who looks at him dumbfounded.

"Hey. I know you."

He steps forward. He's supposed to know what to do, but he doesn't, and the fear grows.

"You're dead!"

He takes another step. "Yes, I've heard." He reaches out, wraps his fist in the man's uniform jacket, draws him close. A beat, and his other hand reaches out to splay across the man's forehead. It's foreign, yet familiar, like breathing. He does...something...and the man's eyes, mouth, nostrils flash red-orange, a sputtering noise accompanying the light.

And he sees...

_An abandoned barn. Lightning flashes, a wind howls around him. Doors open before him. Two men face him, fear written large upon their souls. The shadow of wings. His wings._

He turns to see two more of the demons coming close, and his hands grasp their foreheads in tandem. He smites them.

...he sees...

_A luxurious room, all cream and gilt. Classic paintings on the walls. A man - Dean - younger, less careworn - stares at him in shock as he finishes painting the sigil on the wall with his vessel's blood. He hands Dean a bloody knife - the demon knife - and trusting hands take it, trusting eyes look into his._

Another step forward, another demon, another smiting.

...he sees...

_He reaches out to Sam's forehead, touching it oh-so-gently, but what he's doing is not gentle, not at all. Sam's wall, the wall protecting his mind from memories of his time in the Cage with Lucifer - he rips it away. This will provide a distraction, keep them from interfering._

His foot steps forward again. A fifth demon. He smites again.

...he sees...

_He takes a jar of blood from Crowley's hands, a tiny, satisfied smile flickering across his lips. The key to Purgatory, and his victory against Raphael. He ignores the blood's makeup, brushes aside the memory of the Purgatory creature they had to gut to get her blood, the virgin they had to sacrifice. All that matters is stopping Raphael from re-starting the Apocalypse._

The last of the demons breaks, runs. He transports himself to stand in front of it. "I don't think that's going to help," he says gently, reaching one last time. He idly wonders why the demon didn't smoke out, even as his hand rests on its forehead.

...he sees...

_Dean, standing before him, face twisting, divided between lingering trust and broken, betrayed anger. He says, faintly, swaying, "I'm sorry, Dean," and releases the avalanche of souls from Purgatory. He aims them at the gate, watches as the swirling blue-white mass is sucked through, away, leaving him cold, empty. Horrified. Guilty. His plan, his pride, his single-mindedness - all led him, them, to this one point in time, where he tries to atone for his guilt. But he can already feel, clinging within him with claws holding them back from that torrent of souls, Leviathan. Released. Through his actions._

And he is done; no more demons remain. Dean and Meg walk up to him in the dim light outside the facility. Dean's face is torn between faded anger and awe, relief, hope. Recognition.

"Cas...?"

Meg moves up beside Dean, dark hair swirling. She chuckles, low and intimate. "That was _beautiful_ , Clarence!" Her voice ripples and dances with amusement.

He stares at Dean blindly, heart - soul - flinching from that look.

"I...I remember..." He pauses for a burning, painful moment, eyes locking onto Dean's. "Everything."

A crushing wave of guilt and self-hatred slams into him.


End file.
